I remember an incident with my grandfather when I was about six and trying to mow the lawn with his push mower. The details are long gone but he said to me: "You're a disappointment." I felt the sting of that remark like a slap. I didn't know then what I had done to cause it or why he thought that. I couldn't ask him nor could I slough it off. I thought about it for years, turned it over and over in my mind wondering if it belonged to me or not.
One of the blogs I follow, "in search of white space" by erin, had a poem today about a young girl with cancer. Do yourself a favor and check out erin's elegant poetry. It stirred up these thoughts from long ago. Also made me remember the months I spent working as a nurse on a children's cancer ward in Boston back in the 60's and how I ended up appreciating my time there among these brave little ones. I heaped my inadequate aids on the side of healing as disease ravaged their small bodies and they lived as best they could. But what surprised me was the amount of laughter we shared. We watched cartoons and would dissolve in giggles at the slapstick absurdity of cartoons in those days. The kids would try some of the moves themselves and laugh all over again. They taught me how to stay in the moment those wise ones who's names I can still call.
Seems remarkable, this play of presences, past and present that stir up the rich stew of our lives and let us taste it, maybe savor it, once more.
